As you may recall (I had to write that SO many times in my shorthand class, for which I won an award, though it seems to be a dead art now), I haggled with a local bank on one of my snow days for the privilege of getting back my own money. Technically, half my money. More technically, the money that was my mom’s, which she left to me and my sister the ex-mayor’s wife.
Sis has been tied up at the hospital. Not literally tied up (how great would THAT be!), but figuratively tied up, what with caring for my niece’s 2-year-old daughter, Babe, who has now been in the hospital for two weeks with a tube in her lung for pneumonia. Babe is out of the woods, and Sis sent me a text asking about when I could give her the money.
“We leave early for the hospital, and get home late. I can meet you before school if that’s convenient. Maybe Thursday or Friday.”
“Either day is fine with me. I’ve been carrying that money around in my purse like Grandma at the casino.” Let the record show that our dad’s mom was noted for carrying a couple thousand dollars around with her at all times. Just in case. Must be that Great Depression mentality.
“That’s dangerous! One of those high school kids could have stolen that money out of your purse!”
“Well, it’s not MY money…” That’s what I wanted to text her. But I didn’t. We have not had a theft at our building for nigh on 15 years. Which speaks to the integrity of the student body. Or, perhaps, the camera surveillance system. What I really told her was that I had the money ready, whenever it was good for her to pick it up. She only lives five minutes from my work.
“The ex-mayor might be alone to pick it up. I’ve had trouble getting ready on time in the mornings.”
So…The Pony and I pulled into our parking spot, way down at the very end of the building (my choice, since faculty parking spots are not assigned) to wait for the ex-mayor. He was there within a few minutes.
“You can go on in, Pony. I’ll give him the money.”
“Okay…but this looks like a drug deal.”
That Pony! Sometimes, he pretends to be worldly.
Let the record show that I provided the ex-mayor with a copy of the bank form showing how much cash they forked over to me, and that I included the 33 cents in interest in the envelope with the money.
Carrying a purse containing $1750 around a high school is safer than Sis finding out I kept an extra penny of her inheritance.